


Sleepover

by goldenwanderer



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Gen, Wordcount: 100-1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-28
Updated: 2013-05-28
Packaged: 2017-12-13 06:54:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/821337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenwanderer/pseuds/goldenwanderer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Santana has to deal with a certain cat whenever she spends the night at Brittany's house.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleepover

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wrote this piece for my fiction class at college. I needed to write a story under 300 words and my muse kept telling me to write a Brittana fanfic. Of course, I disguised it by changing the names. Brittany became Sadie, Santana became Becca, and Lord Tubbington became Mr. Fluffles. What I didn't count on was that people in my class would misread the details about Brittany's personality and assume she's younger than she is, making the slight femslash undertones really weird. 
> 
> This takes place sometime before they join Glee Club, I think, when their relationship is still mostly just friendship.

Brittany's cat is staring at her again.

Brittany is asleep, her head resting on Santana's shoulder, curled up in her favorite blue pajamas with the dancing ducks. The movie finished ten minutes ago, but the TV is still on, filling the room with an annoying low buzzing noise and a faint blue glow. But Santana won't move and wake Brittany, so she ignores the TV and tries to sleep.

But the damn cat won't stop looking at her. Lord Tubbington is Brittany's cat, and Brittany is the only reason Santana ever tries to put up with him. He glares at her now from the other end of the couch, watching with narrowed eyes as his human sleeps in Santana's arms.

"What are you looking at, Tubbers?" Santana hisses. "Aren't you late for some obese cat convention? Or would your legs get crushed under all that fat if you tried to get off the couch?"

The cat doesn't move.

"Go stare at the leftover cheese fondue. Maybe a mouse will fall in and drown and you'll actually catch something."

Santana's voice is too loud, and Brittany stirs. "He doesn't eat mice," she murmurs. "That's mean."

"I know, Britt, I'm just -"

"Be nice to him, San."

Santana hesitates, then nods. "Okay, I'll be nice."

Brittany smiles faintly, then lowers her head again and shuts her eyes. Santana watches as Brittany drifts back to sleep, perhaps to dream of dancing ducks or Lord Tubbington. _Or maybe she'll dream of her best friend_ , Santana hopes, smiling at the thought.

She wants to sleep and dream too. But first Santana turns to the cat and gives him a glare of her own.

"Back off, Tubbers. She's _my_ human tonight."

He looks away, and Santana grins, victorious.


End file.
